


The Bublé Problem

by Theverticaldreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And Dean gets hella jealous, Angst, Cas discovers Michael Bublé, Crack, Dean is an angst bunny, Fluff, Human Castiel, Hurt!Cas, I'm sorry I listened to too much Michael Bublé, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Pining Dean, Smug Sam, dean loves cas so much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5516651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theverticaldreamer/pseuds/Theverticaldreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has finally admitted to himself that he loves Cas, but he faces a new problem when Cas discovers Michael Bublé after getting injured. Dean is fighting a serious case of jealousy over Cas's crush and vows to do everything he can to win his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Under My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm working on this fic, formerly known as 'A Very Bublé Christmas' again. Christmas will still be in it, but since it's not Christmas anymore so I wanted it to become more generic. Also, I'm British, so apologies in advance for any British-isms that pop up!

It all started on a drive back home after a hunting trip had gone south.

Dean, Sam and Cas had left the bunker a couple of days ago to check out a lead they'd heard about a werewolf on the outskirts of Sioux Falls. Sam had come across a news report with details about a body of a young woman who had been found with her chest ripped open and heart missing. As soon as Sam finished reading they agreed to check it out, which led to Dean and Cas getting into an argument.

“Cas, for the last friggin’ time, you ain't coming with us!” Dean hissed as he packed his bag, feeling the weight of those baby blues on his back as Cas trailed him like a duckling around the room.

“I’m coming and you cannot stop me, Dean. I refuse to stay in the bunker by myself while you and Sam go on this trip,” he said, snatching a silver knife from Dean's bag and pocketing it in his new coat before Dean could protest.

Sam had been watching the two argue back and forth for about fifteen minutes before he finally spoke up.

“Dean, it’s likely just one wolf versus the three of us. Let him come along. Cas needs training eventually, and this will be an easy one. Why are you so against him coming?”

Dean bristled, zipping his bag up with more force than necessary. “Shut it, Sammy. I said no. He’s only been human for two weeks. He ain’t ready to take on a mouse, let alone a big bad wolf."

“Dean,” Cas warned.

“Come on! It’ll be fine. Think of it as taking him on a field trip. It’ll be an educational experience.”

“Yes, Dean. It will be an adventure. I’m coming.”

“Pipe down, Indiana Jones,” Dean growled, turning his back on the both of them. He hated to admit it, but Sammy was right. The wolf was outnumbered and out-gunned. And Dean wasn’t exactly comfortable with the idea of leaving Cas by himself either. What if he managed to get electrocuted by the toaster, or what if he took a walk and ended up in a hippie convent somewhere? Perhaps he could just make his angel wait in the Impala while he and Sam went all Van Helsing on this thing.

“Oh, in your dreams, Dean. I bet you’d love to raid his lost ark–”

Dean ignored his brother and turned back to face Cas. “FINE. But if you get bitten and turn into a werewolf, we’re turning your bedroom into a cage and chaining you to your bed. Kapish?”

Cas beamed, completely oblivious to Sam’s innuendo. “Yes, Dean. Kapish.” He walked out of the room to go and pack a bag before Dean launched a shoe at Sam’s head.

Sam laughed as he picked up the shoe before lobbing it back his way. “Always knew you wanted to get Cas tied down on a bed, Dean. Just didn’t think you’d be so blunt about it!”

He got a few jabs in the ribs for his efforts.

When everyone was ready to go, Dean started the car and drove in silence, letting his mind wander.

Over the last six months, Cas’s angel juice had slowly been drying up. Two weeks ago he'd woken up to find that he was now completely human. Dean had kept an even closer eye on him after that, worried that the angel would have some sort of species-related crisis, but Cas was handling being human better than he’d expected. Both brothers had been preparing Cas with a whole heap of human-related stuff to get him ready for the day he became one. He now had a perfect sleep routine, flossed his teeth, could make tea and other trivial things, but knowing how to tie a shoelace didn’t make up for the fact that Cas was still upset.

“What am I going to do, Dean?” Cas had whispered. They were both settled down on Dean’s bed in their pyjamas watching Star Wars. Dean had dug out a load of pillows so he and Cas could lean against the headboard. Sure, they could have been sitting across the length of the bed with his laptop perched on his desk instead of at the end of the bed, but this way they had to press into each other to fit. Yeah, Dean knew exactly what he was doing. 

It had been two days since Cas became human, and Sam had taken Baby out to the store to pick up groceries and some organic crap, so Dean had taken advantage of this Sam-free window and persuaded Cas to join him in a movie marathon in his room. About ten minutes into the movie, Dean had managed to knock most of their popcorn over onto his duvet. They were picking at those pieces as they watched Luke navigate through the swamp.

“Whaddya mean?” Dean mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn, looking at his friend.

Cas sighed. “I’m powerless now, Dean. Useless to both you and Sam. What good am I if I cannot work?” His voice choked up towards the end. 

Oh, _hell no_. No way was Dean letting his angel sit there on the verge of tears stewing in doubt and pain. There was only room for one self-loathing bastard in this town and he had filled that position in a long time ago.

Dean brought his arm up around to hug Cas's shoulders, feeling the warmth of his tense body blissfully light up against his own. “Cas, listen here and listen good. You ain’t a nuisance to Sam or me, okay? This is your home as much as it’s ours. You fought alongside us and, now that your body’s changed, you need to adjust. You’ll find your calling again. In the meantime, don’t beat yourself up. And don’t worry about not coming on hunts either. At least you won’t have to put up with Sam unleashing his vegan gas in a hotel room, unlike me.” Dean screwed up his face and pretended to gag.

Cas giggled, blue eyes lighting up and body relaxing into his, and Dean’s heart gave a painful lurch. Smiles from Cas were a rarity nowadays, so Dean went out of his way to make them happen. And it wasn’t like picking on Sam wasn’t fun for him, either.

But the fact still remained. Cas was as human as he was, a fact that tore at Dean for completely different reasons. He was sad because Cas had lost his powers and ultimately such a large part of who he was. He was upset that his friend could think so little of himself over his lack of angel mojo. However a larger, much more selfish part of Dean was deliriously happy.

Cas wasn’t going anywhere. This beautiful person wasn’t going to leave Dean. He wasn't going to vanish off into Heaven or fly halfway across the world, completely out of Dean's reach. Instead he was here, with Dean, his side pressed against his with their legs spread out beneath the comforter. Cas hadn't made any comment about the arm so Dean kept it here, and turned to look at his face. He couldn't help but note the shape of his mouth, his plush pink lips so warm and soft and inviting…

 _Get your head out of the gutter Winchester_ , he told himself. Having a huge crush on a former angel of the Lord was one thing, but it was something else entirely to hit on said former angel when he was still adjusting to life as a mortal. It was tough resisting him, but Dean didn’t want to be _that_ guy. And he still wasn’t sure if his feelings were returned or not, which left a big ball of worry constantly churning in his gut.  
  
Not sure of how to handle Cas's outburst without wanting to smother him with praise and kisses, Dean kept his arm around Cas for the rest of the movie. 

The six months with Cas at the bunker had given Dean the opportunity to reevaluate his feelings for the angel, something that he had been putting off for years because he’d been too busy saving the world or was too scared to show his heart to someone he thought was completely unattainable, but there was nothing stopping him now.  
  
And maybe, just maybe, if he got with this newly human Cas, Sammy would stop throwing his little bitch faces at Dean. Honestly, Dean was sick of him. Whenever Sam caught him staring at Cas, a bitch face would appear. If Dean looked on a little too wistfully when Cas decided to run his hands through his rumpled hair, or when he stretched to reveal a tantalising strip of beautifully tan skin, Sam would whip out his signature look like he was Derek Zoolander throwing 'Blue Steel' around. Sam’s mouth would always pinch in amusement during dinnertime, when Dean decided on cooking Cas’s favourite meals just so he could hear the angel moan around the food that _he'd_ made. 

Sam’s favourite time to dish out the face, though, was when Dean announced that he and Cas were having a movie marathon together. Sam never verbally said anything during those times, but his eyes were always full of shit. 

 _'Oh wow Dean,'_ those eyes said. _'What an amazingly platonic and heterosexual relationship you boys have. No, don't mind me, you go and snuggle in bed with an actual angel who looks like he used to model Calvin Klein underwear, and I'll just go sit in this corner and die of laughter.'_

Ok, so Dean had finally admitted to himself that he was a little bit totally in love with the dude, and he was apparently late to the party because Sam had known for ages.

“I think it’s great that you’ve finally come to your senses, Dean,” Sam said, for once completely sarcasm-free after Dean had come clean about his sexuality and his feelings towards Cas. It had been one of the most terrifying moments of Dean's life, and that was saying something. “You’ve loved him for so long and it was driving me mad knowing that you refused to accept that part of yourself.”

"Yeah yeah, can we please talk about something else now before we start braiding our hair and doin' our nails?"

Dean would never admit it, but a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders at his brother’s words. A lifetime of denying his bisexuality was exhausting, and he was glad that he had finally stopped beating himself up about it. He was even more thrilled knowing that Sammy actually wanted him to get with Cas.

So when the werewolf they were hunting hurt Cas, Dean felt as though his heart was about to shrivel up and die. They’d spent a day hunting the werewolf before finally trapping it in an ancient barn, but the thing was strong and had managed to knock the guns out from both Dean and Sam’s hands before throwing Sam through a wooden wall. Dean made a run for his gun and the wolf had started to chase him, which was when Cas decided to appear out of nowhere and go all Mulan on the beast with only that lone silver blade at his defence.

Dean had scrambled for the gun and shot it clean through the heart, but not before the asshole had managed to claw at Cas’s chest and throw him into the side of an old tractor. His head clashed against metal with a sickening thud before collapsing like a sack of potatoes.  
  
Dean ran to him, his breath coming in fast and short as he stared at Cas’s pale, too-still body. His hands were shaking, one hovering just above the wound while the other went and cradled the side of his face.

Sam had managed to drag himself out of the wall and was now beside Dean, gently removing his hands before instructing him to help get Cas into the car. Dean’s body worked on autopilot as they hauled Cas into the backseat of the Impala before cutting away his shirt and cleaning his wounds.

Cas needed Dean's help right now. He couldn't afford to lose his shit and freak out. He needed to breathe.

Cas returned to consciousness as they cleaned his cuts, which relieved Dean so much that he almost cried, but Cas was still pretty dazed. Dean wanted to drive him to the nearest hospital. The idea sent Cas into a near-panic, so he begrudgingly agreed to drive straight back to the bunker after they wrapped his chest and put him in one of Dean's spare shirts. Cas needed to be kept awake for the six hour journey home, which meant that he and Sam also had to stay awake, so Dean put the radio on.

As he listened to the music, he let the guilt and shame overtake him. Why had he let Castiel come on this hunt with them? Why had be been so stupid?

Driving usually calmed his nerves, but he just felt twitchy instead, letting his eyes constantly flicking into the rearview mirror to make sure Cas was still awake.  
  
Sam was having one of his nerd talks with Cas, though he didn’t mind so much because if Cas could keep up with Sammy’s conversation, he was probably going to be okay.

Still, the acidic worry was churning through Dean. He could have lost Cas today. He could have lost this amazing man without him ever knowing how much he was loved by the older hunter, how much it would gut him if he was no longer here. 

The thought terrified him.

There had to be a spell hiding in the bunker's library that could compel former angels to not go against his wishes and go running towards creepy crawlies. Nope, no way was this moron coming on another hunt for at least a year, Dean reasoned with himself. Just to be on the safe side. He’d have to put him through a monsters 101 bootcamp before he’d even take him on a standard salt n’ burn.

For two hours, Dean let the music on the radio try to coax him out of his panic before everything went to hell.

“Dean, please,” Sam begged, bracing his hands around his face. “Can we just change the station for a bit?”

“What are the rules, Sammy?” Dean said, eyes flicking into the mirror to check on Cas, who was propped up against the door looking out the window, his eyelids drooping. The sky was starting to get a bit lighter, the barest tints of pink painting the sky. He hoped the dawn would be pretty enough to distract Cas for a while. He'd told Dean that the sunrise on Earth reminded him of Heaven; maybe that's why he always slept through them and on into the late morning. 

Sam groaned. “Yeah I know, driver picks the music, but you’ve driven both ways and I don’t know how long I’m gonna last listening to this crap before I fling myself out the door.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Quit being such a drama queen. And quit bitching about my music. AC/DC are basically a part of this family. Respect your elders, dude.”

Sam turned to look at him but didn’t say anything back, so Dean dared a glance at his younger brother.

Sam was currently wearing what Dean had dubbed ‘Bitch face no.13', aka ' _I know how to emotionally manipulate you and I am about to use it'_  face.

Sam batted his lashes before sighing dramatically. “That werewolf really did a number on poor Cas. Concussions are horrible. I bet this sort of music is making his head feel worse, but he would never say anything because he’s so nice and polite.”

“I’m fine, Sam,” Cas said, closing his eyes.

“Hey man, keep your eyes open,” Dean reminded him. He held his breath until Cas’s eyes reopened. “And see Sammy? He’s fine. He loves this stuff. I’ve trained him well. So shut your pie hole.”

“Cas,” Sam asked, turning around in his seat to face him. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does your head feel?”

Cas took a moment to think it over. “I would say an eight. I do not remember ever having sustained a head injury that made me feel… sick before.”

“I bet your head is pounding.”

“Yes, Sam. There is this throbbing sensation that goes straight down into my sinuses and I appear to also be quite dizzy, even though I am sitting down. I do not appreciate this feeling at all.”

Dean was squirming in his seat. “Fine, Sammy! You’ve guilt-tripped me into submission. Choose your girly station and leave me alone.”

Sam smirked, hand flying to tune the radio. “Always making yourself a part of Cas’s conversations, aren’t you Dean? I was just taking an interest in our friend’s health before you had to move your big butt in.”

“Hey, my ass is damn fine, I’ll move it wherever I want.”

“Yeah, but we both know whose ass you really want to be moving into–”

“OH SAMMY I LOVE THIS SONG WHAT A GREAT STATION!” Dean smacked his hand away from Baby’s radio, glaring at him from the corner of his eye.

Dean had no fucking clue what this song was at first. It had only just started, but as the soft jazz intro came to them gently from Baby’s speakers, he thought he recognised it. Sure enough, Dean's suspicions were confirmed when some dude started singing a cover of _I’ve Got You Under My Skin_.

“Oh yeah Dean, we all know how much you love Michael Bublé,” Sam snorted. 

“Michael Who-Hey?”

“He’s a jazz singer. And he’s a total dream boat.”

Dean snorted. “Alright, Sam. Don’t get your panties wet in my car.”

“Sorry bro. At least you're used having panty stains on your own seat, so now they match.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

They listened to the song for about a minute before a squeak came from the backseat.

And honest to god squeak.

Dean whipped his head around to find Cas now leaning forward, hands gripping the seats, eyes wide and mouth puckered into a little ‘o’ as he stared at the radio.

“Oh my god,” Castiel breathed.

“What? What?! Cas, are you hurt? Tell me what’s wrong now,” Dean demanded.

“I’m fine Dean. But this man… Who is this man? And why does he sound so… so _good_?”

What the hell?

Sam laughed. “Welcome to Michael Bublé, Cas. Everyone gay, straight and in-between dreams about being with Michael Bublé.” Sam whipped out his phone, typed in something, and handed it over to Cas. “Here’s a picture of him.”

“ _Oh_ …”

“I know, right? I think it’s just law that everyone wants to have his metaphorical babies.”

“I can see why.” Dean watched in horror as Cas gazed down adoringly at the screen, his cheeks blushing a delicious pink. “Yes. Oh, _Michael Bublé_ …” he whispered.

Dean choked. This wasn’t happening. This absolutely wasn’t happening to him. Cas didn’t get crushes and, if he did, they should be singular and for Dean only. His husky sex-voice should be chanting  _Dean Winchester,_ not the name of some pretentious bag of dicks who couldn't even write his own material. 

“You okay there, big bro?” Sam asked innocently. Cas reluctantly handed the phone back to Sam.

“I’m fine.” _I'm gonna cut off your hair in your sleep._ “Absolutely fine.” _And use it to knit a scarf._ “Think I just breathed in a little funny.” _So I can strangle you with it._

“If you say so. But look at him, Dean. He’s great.”

He shoved the phone under Dean’s nose. He had to hold back a groan. The guy _was_ dreamy. How the hell was he supposed to compete with _that_? “No Sammy, I’m a responsible driver. I need to keep my eyes on the road–”

“Because you were totally keeping your eyes on the road when you were gazing at your backseat bae–”

“If you ever say ‘bae’ again in my presence will put laxatives in your organic, gluten-free water so your shit can match the crap that comes out of your mouth–”

“I bet you’ll be getting under more than just bae's skin real soon Dean–”

“You think you’re so funny, Rapunzel–”

“Guys! Shut up!” Cas shouted. “I need to listen to Michael Bublé.”

“Yeah Dean, put a sock in it.”

Dean stayed quiet not because he was obeying these two douchebags, but because he genuinely couldn’t think of anything to say. Cas, his baby, had told him to shut up so he could listen to this other man sing. He had picked this Michael Boob-Say over his witty one-liners. He knew it was stupid, but he was hurt. He let the lyrics of the song wash over him like some emo teenager.

 _“Why not use your mentality_  
_Step up, wake up to reality_  
_And each time I do just the thought of you_  
_Makes me stop just before I begin_  
_Because I've got you under my skin_  
 _Yes I got you under my skin.”_

After Michael Boob-Hay finished butchering Frank Sinatra, Dean dared another glance at Cas, whose face was tilted up towards the roof of the car in bliss, eyes closed and mouth pulled into a gooey grin. It made Dean want to snog him senseless.

What a bastard.

“I’m really glad you liked him, Cas. Wasn’t that music nicer? I bet your head is feeling better too.”

Cas inhaled deeply. “Yes Sam, I am feeling much better. And thank you for putting on this station, Dean. Without you I probably would have never discovered Mr Bublé.”

Wait, Dean had put on the statio? But Sammy had been the one mucking around with Baby’s radio before he–

Dean groaned. Damn it. If Dean had let Bigfoot here fiddle around with the dials for just a second longer, Michael Boob-Spray would never had seduced his angel with his bullshit vocals and recycled lyrics. God, Dean was an idiot.

“You’re welcome, Cas,” he forced out. “Glad you’re feeling better. Sorry if my music was making your head hurt more. We can keep this station on.” Simon & Garfunkel’s _The Sound of Silence_ was playing now, which was a much better than listening to potential boyfriend-stealing assholes. 

“Hey, Cas,” Sam started. “I have Spotify on my phone and the reception’s actually pretty good out here, want me to download one of his albums for you to listen to? I have headphones in my bag.”

Cas gasped. “Yes please, Sam, if it’s not too much trouble. That would be wonderful.”

Dean’s ears were ringing. Sam reached down into his man-purse and pulled out a pair of red headphones before plugging them into the jack. He handed it over to an eager Cas, who showed him how to use the app. Soon enough, that sappy expression was back on his lovely face as he listened to the music, completely oblivious to the world and, more importantly, unable to hear Dean.

Fuck you, Michael Boob-Trays.

“Well, thanks Sammy. Now that you’ve plugged the angel in–”

“I’m not the one who wants to plug up your angel, if you know what I mean–”

“You’re never going to get bored of this, are you?”

“Nope. You better get used to it. But you know that I only tease you about your big gay love out of brotherly love, right? Remember that I fully support you and Cas becoming a couple, getting married and adopting a herd of snotty kids together."

Dean clenched his teeth. “Pipe down, asshole. He could hear you.”

Sam looked over his shoulder before returning to face Dean again. “Cas is completely oblivious to the world right now. He might currently be going through his own version of puberty. He's Googling pictures of the guy."

"What!"

"Pretty sure he just stroked the screen."

"I hate you for this, Samatha –"

"Relax. Let your little love have his crush, Dean. It might be good for him to broaden his horizon. And also, please don't think that I would willing speak about your feelings for him if I thought that he might hear me. I'm not interested in revealing anything that you're not ready for yet." 

Sammy may currently be de-evolving back into a child, but Dean knew that he would never intentionally hurt his feelings. “I know, Sammy. Now, can we end this chick-flick and talk about something else?”

“Fine. When am I allowed to get a dog?”

“When I’m allowed to paint a target on Michael Boob-Ray’s head and chase him around an open field with a bow and arrow.”

Sam laughed so loudly that Cas heard him over the music, which resulted in him telling the two brothers off again.

Dean took a deep breath and let the weak sunlight wash over his face.

So what if he got a little jealous of some singer? It wasn’t like Cas was the first person to ever develop feelings for a celebrity, so there was no need to get so worked up about it. It was an odd, sick kind of comfort to Dean that Cas currently had a head injury, so he wasn't thinking like his usual self. It just didn’t help that this Bublé guy was the first person Cas had openly fawned over. Dean knew he had no right to be this upset, but his feelings wouldn't go away. 

Dean resolved with himself. Cas couldn’t listen to the guy forever. He would introduce Cas to better jazz musicians like Nina Simone and Louis Armstrong, then he would forget all about that baby-faced angel thief.

Dean could picture it now. He would educate Cas about music, which would mean that they'd get to spend even more time together. They may even share their first kiss while sorting through old records. 

Dean spent the rest of the ride imagining stupid, amazing fantasies between himself and Castiel. This whole Bublé thing would be over by tomorrow morning. Nothing to make a song and dance about. 

Or so he thought. 


	2. The Caregiver's Needs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking forever to come back to this fic! I have a super busy office job and all my brain power went on that instead. I hope you like this chapter, I wrote it in a rush and it's a little angstier than the first one. I would love some feedback on this story if you have the time – I've only just started writing fiction again after a two year break and it would be lovely to hear your thoughts. Thank you.

Dean was now regretting the optimism that he'd had on the drive back. He should never have assumed that life was gonna play out like he wanted it to. He should’ve known to always expect the worst so you don’t end up disappointed, and wasn’t that a depressing thought. Especially since he wasn’t talking about hell or purgatory or the apocalypse.

He was talking about Michael Bublé.

After the music incident, Cas had been listening away on Sam’s phone for about an hour with the biggest smile plastered on his dorky face. Dean was still glancing back in the mirror to check on him, sometimes pulling a bud out to talk to Sam about a song that he particularly liked before returning back to the phone. Why couldn't the damn thing run out of battery? Had Sam found a spell for everlasting battery life? Dean kept on throwing Sam dirty looks, who only looked more smug each time he did it, so he stopped. His brother had a lot to answer to. 

Dean was having to repeat what he'd told himself over and over again as a way of tampering down the jealousy. He felt pathetic.

It all changed after another hour of driving, though. Cas yanked the headphones off and demanded Dean to pull over immediately before opening the door and promptly throwing up. Dean got into the backseat with him and rubbed his back until he’d finished. He asked Sam to get some bags from the trunk before asking his next question.

“Sammy, you up for driving?”

Dean stayed in the back with a poorly Cas, letting him lean into his side. More than anything, he just wished he could just take the pain away. Dean punched his insecurities down and handed Cas Sam’s phone back so he could carry on listening to Bublé. His arm came up to hug his shoulders, the only form of long-term contact that he was brave enough to do with Cas. He tapped his fingertips against Cas's skin. 

Sam drove them back to the bunker in record time. They took Cas to the infirmary to clean and bandage his wounds again. They also gave him a few painkillers and some anti-nausea tablets. He was punch-drunk, swaying slightly as he sat on the bed, but there was more color in his cheeks and he looked a bit more stable.

Dean knew that he needed to get off this emotional rollercoaster about seven hours ago. They were all feeling crappy and tired, but Dean wasn’t in a position to let himself relax just yet. He had to see Cas through this before he could be reunited with his beloved memory foam mattress.

Dean, who'd spent a lifetime sleeping in his car or on lumpy motel mattresses. Who had dressed in a full set of clothes just in case he’d needed to wake up and fight. It was all different now. He had too quickly gotten used to the luxuries that came with being a homeowner. He was now used to going to bed in pyjamas or boxers. Wearing a dressing gown. Having a proper sleep schedule. An actual bathroom filled with his things. He loved waking up to fresh pots of coffee and cooking a breakfast for them all every morning. He was turning into a damn good cook too, though he was going to have to do something about his softening middle sometime soon.

Dean threw Sam a look over his shoulder as he searched for the surgical stitching materials, who gave him a grim smile in return.

They were too old and too tired to be dealing with the supernatural. Dean, especially, had no fucks left to give. He’d played his part of the obedient soldier to its full, spent his whole damn life either running away from monsters or running to them, and he was done with it all. He just wanted his home, his car, his annoying jerk of a brother and his newfound stability. Oh, and a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed angel to worship everyday for the rest of his life, but yeah. Baby steps. 

Dean sighed as he finished stitching up the largest mark on Cas’s chest. Dean knew that it was all kinds of awful and inappropriate, but now that he wasn’t running on adrenaline-fuelled fear, he couldn’t stop looking at Cas’s body.

As an angel, Cas had been rather indifferent to his vessel. Never understood why people were shy and reserved with their nakedness, or why seeing someone else’s bare skin could be so stimulating.

Sure, he could give a textbook answer about biological imperatives or some shit, but that didn’t mean he really got the whole gig until he’d started to turn human himself.

Dean, with his borderline (definitely) creepy hawk-eye vision, had noticed something was off around three months into Cas’s transition. When the change had first kicked off, he’d walk out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around his slim hips or strip off his shirt after coming back from a run with Sam. Dean, who for years had seen Cas decked out in nothing but a suit and trench coat that covered his entire body, couldn’t stop himself from openly gaping. Those moments wrecked him. It was beyond embarrassing. Half the time he’d had to crawl back to his bedroom and deal with the ‘problems’ that kept on popping up after seeing Cas in his state of undress.

It was because of these incidents that caused Dean to realise that not only was he not completely straight, but that he'd also been in love with Cas for far longer than he’d feel comfortable admitting.

But, three months ago, it seemed like the more grace Cas lost, the more aware he became of his body.

Now he would get changed in the bathroom so that Dean could no longer ‘bump’ into him on his way back to his room. He stayed in his sweaty shirts no matter how hot he got after his runs. It meant that Dean could now eat his breakfast without his mouth hanging open like a goddamn fish, but still. 

Dean was no longer treated to displays of that lean, toned torso, his perky nipples or the perfect curve that was the small of his back, and it was driving him crazy. It made Dean want to raid Cas’s wardrobe and burn all his clothes.

Life was so unfair.

After they’d finished healing Cas up, Dean and Sam were walking him back to his bedroom when it all kicked off again.

“Thank you again for letting me listen to Michael Bublé in the car, Sam. His voice is truly beautiful. It’s voices like his that make me glad that I am here to experience humanity.”

Sam laughed, eyes glinting as he looked at Dean, who felt about ready to fetch his hunting rifle and track the Bublé dude down. He just gripped the handle of Cas’s bag tighter.  
  
“No problem, Cas. When we wake up later today I’ll install Spotify on your laptop so you can have his albums to keep. Sound good?”  
  
“Yes please. That would wonderful. Thank you Sam. You are such a good friend.” They were close to his door when Cas looked up at Dean. “You are also a good friend, Dean."

Well. Wasn’t that encouraging.

“Yeah yeah.” He manoevered Cas onto his bed before grabbing a fresh shirt and pants for him to change into. “Right, I’m gonna set an alarm on your phone. You might seem fine, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. I’ll set it to go off two hours from now and I’ll set one on my phone too, so I can come and see how you’re doing.” In an ideal world, Dean would be here waking up with Cas, but needs must. “After that, I’ll let you sleep for a couple more hours before coming in to check on you again. Deal?”

Cas tilted his head back and locked his azure eyes with Dean’s green ones. They were soft and hazy. Dean imagined that his eyes were all dreamy not because of a concussion and over-tiredness, but because he'd finally let Dean have his way with him. 

“There’s no need, Dean. You and Sam have been good to me. I’m sure I’ll be fine.  
  
“Nope.” Dean grabbed Cas’s phone from the bag he’d packed, put it on charge and set an alarm for 11am. “You didn’t listen to me before and you got hurt. So you’re gonna listen to me now so that nothing happens again. Okay?”

Cas frowned. “No. You need to sleep, Dean. You haven’t slept for more than five hours in two days. You’re going to run yourself into the ground.”  
  
“I’m not the one who got his ass handed to him by a werewolf!” he blurted, pointing a finger at Cas. “This, waking people up, this is what you do for someone with a concussion, to make sure that they actually wake up again. You worried about me being tired? Well guess what? I don’t give a fuck.”

Cas’s hands clenched in his lap. “I will not apologise for coming with you, or for distracting that werewolf in order for you to reach your gun. If a concussion and this wound were the price I had to pay, then I would happily do it again.”

 _Oh, like hell you will_. “Well you’re not coming on another hunt with us ever again, so I guess you don’t have to worry about sacrificing yourself anymore.”

“Dean, you’re blowing this way out of proportion.”  
  
Dean was going to do something stupid like punch him. Or kiss him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you there when you got thrown into a tractor? Did you watch as you cracked your head and fell lifeless to the ground? Because if you can’t remember, that’s probably down to your head injury.”

“Dean, my head injury was hours ago. If it was truly bad, I would know by now. I’m fine taking care of myself.”

“Ugh, that’s not the point Cas! Why are you so stubborn?”  
  
“Why are you so determined to do this?”  
  
“Because I can’t stand to see you hurt!”

“I’m fine!”  
  
_“Stop saying that you’re fine and just let me take care of you!”_ Dean raged.

The room became deathly quiet. Cas’s face was unreadable. Sam coughed and brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Look Cas,” Sam started. “We know that you can look after yourself. I know that you might feel the need to prove your independence to us since you became human, but sometimes being human is about accepting the help other people offer you. You might be okay, but what Dean said is true. Head injuries are never straight forward. Sometimes you’re good, but they can also go very wrong. What would you do if it had been Dean who got hurt?”

Cas flinched. Dean tried not to read too much into it.

“Exactly. So, for our peace of mind, please let Dean wake you up every couple of hours, yeah?”

Dean fought the urge to pull his brother into a hug.

Cas looked crestfallen, tilting his face down so Dean couldn’t see his eyes. “I hadn’t thought about it that way. I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, sounding choked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “No sweat, man. I really do, ah, have your best interests at heart. I don’t wanna wake up to find you,” _Gone. Dead._ “lost in your head or something.” _Because I don’t know what I would do without you now._

That got Cas’s full attention. Dean had never pushed him about his time in the mental institution, indeed lost in his own head, but he knew it was always going to be a touchy subject.

“I understand. Please forgive me.” He swayed on the bed.

Their argument seemed so petty now. Dean could have a panic attack over his choice of words later, but right now, Cas really needed to get some rest.

“Hey, there’s nothing to forgive, man. Let’s just all go to bed. We’re cranky and tired and not thinking straight.” He pointed to Cas’s pyjamas. “You alright putting those clothes on by yourself?”

Cas nodded.

“Okay. Oh, and before I forget,” he said, reaching for his own phone, “need to set my alarm too. See you in a few, Cas.”

“Yes Dean. See you soon. Goodnight, Sam.”

“Night, Cas.”  

 

***

 

Luckily, Sam didn’t say anything about Dean’s reaction to their argument. They stayed silent until Sam reached his room.

“He really will be fine, you know.”

Dean wanted to reply with something positive, if only to reassure his brother. But he couldn’t even find it in himself to nod his head.

“Hey,” Sam said. He gripped one of Dean’s shoulders and stood quietly with him for a moment. “If you want to wake up Cas the first time, I’ll get the second?”

Dean forced his breathing to slow down before he spoke. “No, it’s alright. I wanna do it.” He closed his eyes before he spoke again. "I’m just real tired of watching the people I care about get hurt, Sammy.”

He nodded. “So am I, Dean. Cas is my best friend; I can’t lose him either.”

Dean could feel tears biting his lower lids. “He just doesn’t get it, how I feel about him. What am I gonna do? How do I make him see?”

Dean Winchester: hunter extraordinaire, saviour of the world, the righteous man himself, was asking his brother for courting advice. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel ashamed.

Sam smiled, his face gentle. “Just do what you’re doing already. He already knows you care about him, you just have to make him feel worthy of it. It will take time. You didn’t get to grips with your feelings for a billion years, so just be patient.” He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “You know, he really did like listening to Michael Bublé in the car. If you show an interest in what he likes, that’ll give you some brownie points too.”

Dean groaned. “Sammy –”

“I’m serious, Dean. Look at how happy he was. Surely you would put up with the music if it meant you could be around him like that?”

Dean hated to admit it, but his brother had a point. Oh, who was he kidding, the thought of Cas acting all carefree and happy was all he wanted. He’d even listen to Kanye West on repeat if it meant he’d get to be around Cas like that.

 _Well if I didn’t know that I was in love before I sure as hell do now,_ he thought.

“Yeah. Okay.”  
  
“Great!” He moved away from Dean. “Right. I’m going to bed for a long, undisturbed sleep. You enjoy waking up in,” he looked at his watch, “one hour and forty-six minutes. See ya!” The little bitch flashed a grin before shutting his door.

Sighing, Dean trudged off to the kitchen and grabbed some food before returning to his own room and turned his laptop on. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until this was all over.

 

***

 

Dean was watching an episode of _Firefly_ when the first alarm went off. He muted it, shut the laptop screen, stuffed a protein bar in his trouser pocket and grabbed a bottle of water before making his way to Cas’s room.

He made it outside the door when he heard a buzzing sound followed by a small thud and Cas whimpering, “Ugh, make it stop…”

Dean barged into the room to see Cas half-fallen out of bed, his sheets tangled up around his legs, arm stretched to try and pick up the noisy phone from where he’d somehow managed to fling it across the room.

Dean had been expecting something awful, but this? No, this was pure gold.

“Dean, thank goodness you're here, please pass me my phone.”

Dean snorted before pulling out his own and taking a picture of the former angel in all his glory.

Cas froze before giving up, body slumping in defeat. “Did you just take a picture?”  
  
“Yep. And you ain’t deleting it. Think I might print it out and get it framed. Or turned into wallpaper. I was thinking of redecorating the War Room.”  
  
“You’re evil. How did you hide that from me for so long?” He groaned. “Dean, please. If you value our friendship. Please make the noise go away.”  

Chuckling, Dean strode across the room and silenced the phone.

“Thank you Dean,” he said, instantly sounding tired again.

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean said as he hauled Cas back on the bed. “It’s time for your check-up. Just think of me as your very own _Dr Sexy._ ”

Cas groaned, flopping back down onto the bed and rolling away from Dean. “No.”

“Come on. Sooner you indulge me, the sooner I leave.”

“Don’t wanna leave,” he slurred.

“You ain’t leaving, I am.”  
  
“No. Not that. No, Dean.”

Dean took a deep breath, steadying himself. He had a job to do, and it was more important than his feelings.

“I’m right here, Cas.” He coughed. “So, how you feeling?”

“M’ tired.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I kinda got that, Champ. But you don’t feel sick? How’s your head?”

Cas rolled over and opened his bleary eyes. “I do not feel sick, but my head feels thick, though that is probably due to the lack of sleep.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, you sound peachy.” He offered Cas the bar and water. “I want you to eat and drink these for me. Think you can manage?”

Nodding, Cas plucked the bar from his hand and ate it in silence, taking sips of his water in-between bites.

When he was done, Dean held his hand out for the wrapper and stood up. “Thanks Cas. See you in a couple’ve hours.” He made to go.

“Dean?” Cas said softly.

He stopped and turned his body back to face Cas. “Yeah?”

“About before. I just. I wanted to say thank you. Accepting help is not easy for me.” He pulled the blanket up to cover his shoulders. “I just don’t want to become more of a burden than I already am.”

No way was that kind of self-depreciating behaviour coming out of anyone’s mouth in this house but his own. Dean needed to make him see in a way that wouldn’t blow his cover, but he was exhausted and not just from the lack of sleep. He was so tired of being with Cas but not _being_ _with him_. He wanted to offer more than a manly pat on the back when he was feeling down. He wanted to embrace him, cherish him.

 _Fuck it all,_ he decided.

He strode over to where Cas was lying down, knelt in front of him and gripped one of his hands tight in both of his.

“I just wanna make something clear right now, Cas. You have never and will never be a burden to me. I don’t care that you’re human. Hell, I think I actually prefer you this way. But please.” He couldn’t say this while looking into Cas’s beautiful eyes. He pressed his head against their joined hands. “Please know that taking care of you will always be my priority. I like that I can do that for you. I always want to help you, with anything. If you got a jar that won’t open or if you’ve got a stinking cold, no matter what, I’m there for you.”

He could hear Cas sniffling. “Thank you Dean,” he said, his voice thick.

Dean couldn’t look up. “I’ll wake you up two hours from now, okay? And then I’ll let you sleep for real. And, when you wake up, I’ll make your favourite burger.”

“The one with the smoked cheese and bacon?” he asked hopefully.

That gave him the strength he needed to lift his head away from their hands. “Oh yeah. It’s gonna be epic, man.”  
  
“That sounds great. I can’t wait. Can you also make sweet potato fries?”

He was so in love with him.

So he wasn’t really thinking when he spoke next.

“You bet your ass I can. And I’ll even connect Sam’s laptop to the speakers in the kitchen so you can listen to some more of your Bublé guy, alright? Just the once, mind, because you’re sick n’ all. You get a special pass.”

Cas full-on grinned at the idea before closing his eyes and squeezing Dean's hand. Dean would never admit that he smiled right back.

“Go to sleep, Cas.”  

Dean didn’t let go. He hummed _I’ve Got You Under My Skin_ to Cas, who fell asleep with that damn smile on his face.

 


	3. Quantum of Hell No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance for any horrific typos, I wrote this out very quickly!

Dean wasn’t cruel enough to set another alarm on Cas’s phone, so he only put one on his when he returned to his room.

Two hours later, by some miracle still able to function, Dean went to check on Cas again. Dean was almost sorry that Cas wasn’t once again spread out on the floor like a whiny klutz and instead was right where he left him.

“Come on, buddy. Wake up.”

“ _Ugh,”_ Cas grumbled, burying his head under his duvet.

“Hey, at least I didn’t put an alarm on your phone this time. Didn’t want you to wrestle your blankie again. Currently it’s: blankie one, Cas nil. I’m saving your pride here.” He shoved his shoulder. “Cas, look at me.”

When he resurfaced, Dean was treated to a very grumpy face that was partially hidden by his messy hair. Even his bottom lip was pushed out like a goddamn child about to throw a fit in Walmart.

“Alright Scrooge, alright. Just two questions, you know the drill. Head?”

“Fine,” he croaked.

“Hmm. And sickness?”

“Only thing I’m sick of is bein’ wok’n up.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed, making Cas jump and complain some more. “You’re such an ass just after you've woken up! It’s great. Now, how many fingers am I holding up here?” He held up a peace sign with his right hand.

“That was three questions.”

“It’s a surprise quiz!”

“This’s not on the syllabus.”

Dean was smiling so much it almost hurt. “Yeah well, I figured you’d be smart enough to figure it out anyways. Fingers, dude. Count.”

Cas blinked slowly. “Two.”

“Well look at you, Einstein, you passed! Congratulations. You now get to sleep properly.”

“Thanks, Dee,” he murmured, barely audible. “M’ always. It’s. Hard.” He shuffled towards Dean suddenly, eyes strained wide like he was about to let him in on a secret. He moved his hand out to touch Dean’s forearm, which was resting on the bed. “To wake up. To pretend. And the music… helps… it helped me to…” His eyes closed again and let body sag into the bed.

Dean waited for a few seconds for him to continue. “To…?”

But Cas had already fallen back to sleep, soft little breaths escaping his lips as he exhaled.

Dean picked up his wayward hand, pressed a kiss to his knuckles, then left Cas’s room.

He’d expected to conk out as soon as he fell onto his bed, but he couldn’t quite switch off. He had been able to quieten down his head whilst he was preoccupied with the TV, but now with nothing but silence ringing in his ears, the whole day weighed on him like a brick house.

Cas getting hurt. Cas and he arguing. Cas not seeing how worthy he was. Cas not seeing how much he was adored by Dean. And Michael sodding Bublé. Those thoughts, over and over.

_That adorable grumpy assbutt is never coming on another trip. He can have Bobby’s old job. He loves books and shit._

Dean also thought about what Cas had said to him before he’d fallen asleep.

Why did he find it hard to wake up? For what was he pretending for, and why did music help? Dean didn’t dare think too deeply into it, fearing that the answer was plain as day. He eventually settled into an uneasy sleep before his body allowed him to sink into sweet oblivion.

 

***

 

Dean woke up from a dreamless sleep feeling achy and exhausted. He searched for his phone blindly before bringing it up close to his face to check the time.

5.47pm. Just under five hours sleep. Perfect.

He got up and went straight for a shower, letting himself stay under the spray a bit longer than normal to sort out his morning wood, absolutely not (definitely) letting himself think about Cas. Afterwards he threw on an old shirt, sweatpants and dressing gown before making his way back to Cas’s room.

Cas had moved during the night (afternoon?), his body now curled in a loose ball under his blankets facing the wall. Satisfied, Dean went to check on Sam.

His brother was still out like a light too with his face mashed against the pillow and an arm slung over the side. Practically a goddamn swan.

Dean decided to get a little revenge. He trod carefully into the room and lifted a chair from Sam’s desk before seating himself right next to Sam’s head and bent towards his ear.

“SAMMY!”

Sam shot up, his arm almost hitting Dean in his haste. Hiis face full of panic as his eyes flickered to Dean, the rest of the room, then back to Dean. “What?! What’s happening? What?”

Dean grinned, then slapped his shoulder. “Breakfast is happening, asshole! Get up.”  
“Oh my god.” Sam sat up and started to chuck random things at Dean as he rushed to get out of the room. “I hate you so much.”

Dean was out the door, but turned around and popped his head through it again to reply back to Sam. “Well this is what happens when you act like a little bitch, Sammy.”

Dean fled before Sam’s old underwear managed to hit him.

 

***

Dean was whistling as he cooked breakfast. He was going all out this morning with French toast, bacon, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and hash browns. His many midnight (morning) snacks had meant that he wasn’t as hungry as he could have been, but he’d had a tough few days and he needed the calories.

About ten minutes later, Sam walked into the kitchen and greeted Dean with one of his more common bitchfaces. Dean threw a big toothy grin his way as Sam sat down at the table.

Sam didn’t say anything for about a minute before curiosity got the better of him. “So,” he began before walking over to the side where Dean had been piling French toast. He took one off the plate and took a huge bite and leaned against the side.

“So yourself.”

“Yeah, anyway. How was Cas?”

Dean checked on the food under the grill before replying. “He was okay. Grumpy as hell and I think when he wakes later I’m gonna fear for my life, but otherwise he’s peachy, thank god.” Dean paused before getting to the next part. “Said some weird stuff though.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam said around his last mouthful of toast.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, dude.”

“Sorry, Mom.” They both rolled their eyes. “Back to the conversation. What did he say?”

“Oh, um.” Dean dumped a big can of beans into a saucepan. “Well. He said some stuff just as he was about to fall back asleep that made me stop and think. He was tired as hell and probably talking out of his ass, but then it’s Cas, you know? I dunno if he’s capable of being anything but honest.”

“So what did he say?”

Dean turned the grill off and stirred the beans. “He said that it was hard for him to wake up, and to pretend. Said the music helps.”

Sam frowned. “Dean–”  
  
“Sammy.” Dean turned off the whole cooker before turning round to his brother. “Look, I know what you’re gonna say man. I do. You think Cas is suffering from being a human more than he lets on, that he’s pretending to play human, and listening to music helps him, what? Remember angelic choruses from heaven or some bull? Makes it easier for him to be stuck here? Because I’ve thought about it, a lot, and I don’t know if I can hear you confirm what I’ve been thinking.”

Sam looked unimpressed. “Well. Thanks for putting words into my mouth, Dean. I was actually going to say something else entirely.”

“Oh.” Dean stood still, letting his hand fall away from their crockery cupboard. “Like what?”

Sam sighed. “Can we eat, then I’ll tell you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay.” Sam made to move before reconsidering. “Wait, aren’t you gonna wake Cas up for some food too?”

Dean turned a little red. “You know if I try and wake him up before he’s ready I’ll be coming back here minus a hand or something.”

Sam looked unimpressed. “Dean.”

He huffed. “Fine. I promised that I’d let him sleep in, and that when he does wake up I’m gonna make him his favourite burger. And that he could listen to that Bublé bitch, because I’m an idiot.”

Sam laughed and smacked one hand down against the kitchen side. “Hah! He’s got you so whipped. It’s adorable.”

Dean was about to come back with some offensive retort when he decided against it. “Suppose I am. Now, quit smirking at me and get some damn forks or something. You’re creeping me out.”  
  
Sam went to get cutlery and coffee while Dean loaded a couple of plates up with food. They dug in for a couple of minutes before Sam made to speak.

“So last night – or this morning, even – the first time we left Cas’s room and you had your unrequited love fit, I realized that my phone was missing, so I went to check Cas’s room first as it’s closer than the infirmary. When I got there, I saw him hunched over himself with his head in his hands. He was having a bit of a cry.”  
  
Dean looked appalled. “Jesus Christ, Sammy! Why the hell didn’t you come and get me?” he spat.

Sam put his fork down. “Because the first thing he said when he saw me was, ‘Don’t tell Dean.’”

Dean felt cold. He wasn’t feeling so hungry anymore. In fact, he felt like he was gonna hurl.

Sam put his hands up. “It’s not what you think, okay? Just hear me out before you spiral into the depths of your despair.”

Dean also put down his cutlery and crossed his arms, silently giving Sam permission to continue.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “So, yeah, he saw me and before I can even open my mouth, he says that and starts crying some more. I went and sat down next to him, asked if it was to do with his injuries and he just shook his head. When he could speak, he told me that he felt…” Sam let it hang and took a swig of his coffee.

“Cut it with the dramatic pauses Sammy and just tell me what he said.”

“I’m getting there! Anyway, he told me that he felt useless, that he was just taking up our time and that it’d probably be for the best if he just walked away.”

All the air left Dean’s lungs and he couldn’t seem to breathe any back in. His eyes were stinging.

“No…”

Sam closed his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, Dean. Of course I told Cas to stop being so silly, that we both cared about him and didn’t want him to ever leave. I also said how much it would cut you up if he left.”  
  
Dean realized that he was gripping the edge of the table way too tight. He withdrew them into his lap. “And what… what did he say to that.”

“He didn’t believe me at first. Just kept on shaking his head, then gagging because shaking a head with a concussion is never a good idea. But he said some things afterwards, like how he felt about being human. And I’ll give you a clue: none of it’s bad, but I think you should really talk to Cas about it. It’ll answer a lot of your questions, and I can’t answer any more for you.”

Dean sniffed. “So, that’s it? You’re telling me that he’s fine with being human but can’t let himself feel worthy of anyone’s love?”  
  
“It’s not about letting himself feel worthy, Dean. He has very little choice in his feelings; they’re still so new. He’s trying so hard to control himself like he used to. An angel’s will with the body of a human is just asking for trouble. So I think you guys really need to talk. Even if you don’t wanna do it in one blow, work your way up to it. Spend some time with him this week, show him how happy he makes you.”

Dean nodded, swallowing around a huge lump in his throat. Sam nodded back at him, and the two brothers went back to their breakfasts without a word.

 

***

 

Sam had hooked his iPhone into the kitchen speakers, letting easy music play while he and Dean worked on their laptops to find any new leads for potential cases. They’d been at it for about an hour when Dean spotted something.

“Sam, check this out. About a year ago, a twenty-three year-old girl named Jenny was missing. A month later they found dead in an old underground bunker that was hidden around the outskirts of Boulder, Colorado. Looks a bit like a silo, but it’s twenty-four meters deep. One of the metal steps leading down into it had snapped, and she fell to her death. Sounds a bit weird, young girl going down in a creepy, deep as hell underground tube, but here it gets weirder. Apparently she’d been seeing her ex-boyfriend around town a week before she died, but the boyfriend had been dead for over two years.”  
  
“Huh. So, ghost attack? Pushed her to her death?”  
  
“Nah, don’t think so. See, other people had seen the man she’d been pointing at too, though when these girls looked at him they saw different things. One witness says that she saw James Dean while another saw Colin Firth as Mr Darcy.”  
  
Sam’s eyes widened comically. “They were definitely looking at the same man?”  
  
Dean took a sip of his soda. “Yep. Apparently the girls got into some massive fight over who he really was, but once they came to their senses and realised that there wasn’t something quite right, they bolted. Jenny was found with her head bashed in from the fall with a smile on her face,” Dean passed Sam a photo of the victim.

“God,” he breathed. The girl’s face was stretched into a sinister grin, made even more so by stretch of her decaying skin. “Temperature must’ve been pretty consistent being so far down into the ground. You said a year ago, so she went missing late November?” Dean nodded. “So, she’d been down there for a month with a consistent temperature. Just checked, Boulder in November last year had been forty-two degrees, pretty balmy for that time of year, and it would have been warmer underground. Don’t you think she should have been, I dunno…”

“More decayed that what she was? Yeah. Police think that she might have been stayin’ somewhere for a while before they died. They found the other two girls and one of them stuck out in a mental hospital for a while, told the psychiatrists the whole story before retracting it.”  
  
Sam chewed his lip. “Think she must have been smart enough to realize that she’d have to lie if she ever wanted to be free again.”

“Exactly.” Dean drank some more. “Declared sane by doing the most insane thing and denying that something was wrong. But now this girl has gone missing too, just a few days ago, so I don’t think Mr Tall, Dark and Creepy went anywhere. Question is, why these girls? Why didn’t the bastard try it on with anyone else in that time or, if he did, why hasn’t anyone heard more about it?”

“Shit. Could you forward me the links you found?”  
  
“Way ahead of you, Sammy.”  
  
“Cheers Dean.”

“You don’t think it’s a Shifter do you Sam?”

“Not sure. With Shifters, they physically take on someone else’s appearance. But this? This seems like it’s connected on a psychological level with these girls and takes on a look that they only can see, like a twisted version of the Mirror of Erised.”

Dean looked up. “Wait, Mr Darcy. James Dean. Two beautiful guys who were, or are, adored by loads of girls. The girlfriend saw her dead boyfriend. So this thing is about desire? Makes people see who they want the most?”

Sam pursed his lips. “Exactly. But they didn’t even question it at first, they just accepted that the guy was really there for them. There’s something more that we’re not getting.”

They settled into their research for another few minutes when they caught the sound of fabric moving slowly against the floor.

“Well either that’s nice a zombie for us to take care of or Cas has finally made it into the land of the living,” said Dean just as Cas himself appeared through the doorway, a white sheet wrapped around his head and body with just his sleep-rumpled face peeking out.

Dean mashed in mouth together to try and stop the laugh that was begging to escape.

“Woah. Whattsup, E.T?”

Cas frowned. “I have never understood that question. I don’t understand how asking someone what is upwards relates to how they’re feeling.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, guess it is pretty weird. There’s coffee in the pot, dude. Help yourself.” He let Cas shuffle quickly over to the pot before he asked his next question. “So…”  
  
“I am feeling fine. Thank you for asking, Dean.”  
  
Dean blinked. “But I didn’t ask.”  
  
“No, but I knew you were going to.” He took a sip of his coffee before smiling at Dean. “Thank you, though. I always appreciate and cherish your kindness. You are a very good friend to me.”

Once again, Dean failed at emotions and ended up nodding like one of those toy dogs sad people had in the backs of their cars.

“No sweat, man. You’re a great friend too, even if you don’t believe you are.” Dean felt Sam kick him under the table. Oh yeah, he probably shouldn’t say too much and give the game away. “Say Cas, why don’t you come and help us in a bit? We’ve got a lead on something new in Colorado that we could use your opinion on.

Cas perked up. “Really? You said that I was banned from cases…”

Dean fought the urge to agree with him straight off the bat. “Yeah, for a while, Cas. You ain’t quite ready yet. You know what you’re amazing at, though? Research. You’re always so much help to Sam and me when you hit the books.” He took a deep breath before smiling softly at the angel, who was looking at Dean with shock. “Tell you what. You need to freshen up, but you can’t let your stitches get wet yet. I’ll help you wash your hair in fifteen minutes after I prep some food, then I’ll re-bandage your chest and let you was, okay? Then get dressed into something loose and come back in here. I’ll have your burger ready for you soon after.”

“And I can install Michael Bublé onto your laptop too, so go and get it!”  
  
“Yeah, real helpful dickwad.”

Cas smiled shyly, twisting his hands into his blanket. “Yes, I do think I need a wash. Thank you Dean. You are too kind to me.” He looked to Sam. “I would appreciate that very much, Sam. Thank you. I just need to use the bathroom, then I will be back.” And with one last, long look to Dean, he was off.

Dean wasn’t aware that he’d been staring in the doorway where Cas was until a hand waved in his face.

“Earth to Dean! Please get off your big love cloud and come back down to earth, just for a while anyway.”

Dean shook his head. “Whatever. I’m taking a break and help Cas anyhow.”

“Guess I’ll take a break too.”

Dean made his way over to the fridge and pulled out some ingredients. Smirking, Sam walked over to his phone where it was still plugged into the speakers and typed something in.

“Sammy, don’t you think about changing this –”

Phil Collins’s _You Can’t Hurry Love_ suddenly filled his kitchen.

Dean threw his head back with a groan. “Really, Sam?”

“Listen to wise old Phil, Dean!” Sam then started singing along to the chorus, making Dean want to rip off his own ears.

_“You can’t hurry love, no you’ll just have to wait. She said love don’t come easy! Well it’s a game of give and take...”_

“I am officially banning all music,” Dean interrupted. “It’s gonna be like _Footloose_ but with more ghosts, less dancing and less Kevin Bacon.”

“And more gay love. Don’t forget that. Your life is basically a cross-between Brokeback Mountain and Scooby Doo.”

“If I agree to let you buy a dog, can you leave me alone?”

“No, but I’ll take the dog anyway.”

Sam was wearing a shit-eating grin as he went back over to his laptop. Dean totally _did not_ hum along to the song as he combined the ingredients together to make burgers.

 

***

 

After Dean had helped Cas wash his hair (he finally admitted that he was feeling rather sore after he’d tried to bend over to help Dean get the shampoo out before crying out in pain) he’d re-bandaged his chest before giving him some privacy. Later, as expected, Cas had tucked into his burger and sweet potato fries with gusto, making little appreciative noises as Dean tried in vain to focus on the case, but it was too difficult to do anything other than wait for the small tip of Cas’s tongue to appear as he wiped sauce away from his lips.

 _Dear God this should be illegal this is basically porn and your brother is RIGHT HERE DEAN!_  
  
Dean was sure that the only reason why he hadn’t crossed the line and licked those delicious lips clean himself was because, as promised, he let Cas listen to Michael Bublé. Instead of it being a lovely dinner with just the two of them spending some quality time together like he’d planned, it was now a Greatest Hits countdown of this pretty boy singer and his pain-in-the-butt brother as they researched this bizarre case. Sam kept on looking at Dean over the top of his laptop screen with a knowing look. 

_Just you wait until the Niar finds its way into your shampoo again, Cueball._

Dean, Sam and Cas decided to stop after a few hours of looking into the case. They decided to have another look at the leads they’d made after a good night’s sleep.

Not quite ready for bed yet, Dean asked Cas to join him for a film in his room. They’d not really had a chance to spend much quality time together since the attack, and it was bothering Dean to no end. He ached for Cas like a limb and he just wanted to press his side into his, feel his warmth, know that he was okay.

Unfortunately, because of his chest, Cas’s upper body needed to be supported properly, which meant no more movie marathons in Dean’s bed for a couple of days at least. He helped prop Cas up on the sofa and stuck _Back To The Future: Part 2_ on.

Cas fell asleep against Dean not even halfway through the movie. He hugged Cas’s shoulders with both arms and let himself feel content.

 

***

 

Two days later, they’d stockpiled enough evidence on the case to make a good go of it. Dean, however, had made it perfectly clear that they would not be going on this one.

“It’s too soon after, Sam,” Dean said, eyes flicking back towards Cas where he sat in the kitchen listening to more Bublé. Dean had given up trying to implement the one-time only pass after only a single look of those puppy dog eyes.

He was such a goner.

Sam wasn’t happy, but he accepted why they couldn’t take on a case like this just yet. It was a hell of a drive to get there, they still didn’t have enough on this thing apart from that it was probably similar to a Shifter, and that Dean was absolutely not going to leave Cas’s side.

They’d made some calls and a group of hunters had agreed to look into it. They’d agreed to be on-call for the hunters and help them out wherever they could. Which meant that two people had to stay in the bunker at all times. Today, Sammy decided to take Baby out to get some groceries, which meant that for the first time since they headed out on that werewolf lead, he was truly alone with Cas.

Dean had persuaded Cas to come out of his room and to take a break from Michael Bublé, which was a feat in itself. Dean had spent the whole of yesterday with Cas trying to teach him about proper jazz music. He’d put record after record on and, while Cas liked them a lot, he’d still gone back to Bublé by the end of the day. All fantasies Dean had of sneaking that coveted first kiss with him had vanished. Every move he’d tried to make had been rebuffed, probably because Cas didn’t realise what Dean was trying to do. Instead, he let himself get a little lost in those old classics, watching dust particles flicker like snow as they passed small beams of light that entered the room. Dean pointed them out to Cas, who had seemed quite taken with them and had sat down with Dean to watch the dust dance in the warm rays. Eventually, Cas's eyes caught his and they'd stared stared at each other for an immeasurable amount of time before Dean chickened out and turned away to watch the dust again. 

Okay, so Dean hadn’t had his kiss, but the twenty or so wordless minutes he’d sat watching Cas who was watching dust fall like his first snow was pretty awesome.

Later that night, after Dean made mac and cheese for everyone, he and Cas went to his room for a movie. His chest was healing up nicely and wasn’t causing him too much trouble, so he was fine sitting up in a bed for a while. He found _Quantum of Solace_ , because yesterday they’d seen _Casino Royale._ He settled down next to Cas to watch it.

Dean relaxed, letting himself luxuriate in the warmth coming from Cas’s side as the first scene of James Bond was just drawing to a close. He always liked to watch the opening scenes and suss out what the little video was foreshadowing, but he’d done that before for this film so now he could just listen now. He couldn’t remember who sang the cover of Ella Fitzgerald’s _Cry Me A River_.

It’d been a guy, but he couldn’t figure out who–

Dean froze.

Some guy with a fuck load of jazz. That sounded familiar.

_Dear God. If you’re out there at all, please don’t let this singer be who I think it’s gonna be –”_

_“Oh my god!”_ Cas shrieked, grabbing Dean’s bicep with both hands and shaking him. “Dean, it’s Michael Bublé! He’s singing the song! He’s in James Bond!”

A bunch of happy squeaking sounds came from his mouth before he decided it would be a great idea to rock his body into little excited jumps on Dean’s bed.

Dean’s feelings were fighting for dominance. On one hand, of course he couldn’t escape from Michael fucking Bublé. No. God, the universe or his damn luck or whatever weren’t going to give him at least a couple of hours away from the guy. He’d just wanted a nice afternoon watching a movie with Cas.

They always watched films together; it was _their thing_. It was Dean’s safe, happy place where he could pretend that he wasn’t terrified of telling his best friend that he was completely in love with him and could just relax in his presence. Now even this was being invaded by goody two-shoes jazz singers.

But on the other hand, Dean was only human. More specifically, a human male who was also incredibly attracted to another (now) human male. Who of which was currently jumping up and down and making the most delicious little noises right here on Dean’s bed. He couldn’t have been able to prevent the hard-on that was now very much there even if he tried, and so help him he did.

_Maggoty corpse juice being dumped all over you. Sammy in a sexy nurse’s outfit seducing Gabriel with candy. The Impala going through a car crusher. Pie being outlawed. Cas leaving you and settling down with Michael Bublé… Jesus please why is nothing working I need to make this boner go away –_

Dean was mentally patting himself on the back for having the foresight to cover himself with the blanket, but if he didn’t stop Cas soon he was going to have a very humiliating accident.

“Cas! Stop jumping up and down. You’re gonna aggravate your wounds.”

Cas stopped his movements immediately and looked straight at Dean with those big, blue eyes. His bottom lip wobbled slightly.

_Aw fuck I’m sorry baby, you do whatever the heck you want just please don’t look at me like that I will do anything._

“I’m sorry, Cas. I’m just real concerned about you, you know. Come on, let’s rewind the song and listen to it again.”  
  
That brought Cas’s smile back and Dean, God help him, was glad that he was a fool enough to make up for his stupid mistakes.

Dean, as usual, had managed to worm his arm around Cas again, but this time he held him a little tighter as he thought. 

He wasn't sure how much longer he could cope with this before he exploded. 


End file.
